


Round and Round They Go; Whither They Stop, Nobody Knows

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [89]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Escape, Evil Plans, Imprisonment, Love/Hate, M/M, Tea, Timeline What Timeline, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 14:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: The Doctor can never keep the Master out of trouble for long, but that's no reason to stop trying, not when there's such joy in the chase.





	Round and Round They Go; Whither They Stop, Nobody Knows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laireshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/gifts).



> Apologies for the title, I intended it to be humorous, but it is technically grammatically incorrect. I hope the joke outweighs the crime.

The Doctor served up tea while the Master played his cards. Andromedan Pinochle was their latest attempt to find something they both enjoyed that didn’t require leaving the Tardis. While the Master was the Doctor’s prisoner, he kept escaping. He’d collapsed two governments and gotten himself banned from five galaxies in a matter of months.

Thus, Andromedan Pinochle.

“Shall we visit the Wandering Lakes of Imblipungnap?” the Master suggested. “It has been a thousand years since I’ve seen them.”

“Not supposed to leave the Tardis,” the Doctor sing-songed, dropping chits into their respective piles. “Not that you listen,” he muttered.

“Such naivety, Doctor,” the Master scoffed. “A majestic intellect such as mine shall not be kept chained like a dog!” This, willfully ignoring the nano-necklace that was  _ supposed _ to keep him from leaving the Tardis. He leered, displayed a startling number of teeth. “But my intellect is what draws you to me time and time again.”

The Doctor choked on his tea, wheezing and flailing while the Master chortled. He took too long to recover, and lost the round of Pinochle.

“That’s enough from you,” he exclaimed, throwing down his cards. “Go to your room!”

“As you wish, Doctor.” The Master obeyed, sweeping out of the room majestically.

The Doctor woke up three days later with a film over his tongue and a crick in his neck. On the Tardis intercom, a message awaited him.

_ ‘For all your supposed cunning, you fail to protect your own libations! I have escaped you again, Doctor, and your pursuit of me will be your most perilous yet! I laugh as I await your bumbling attempts!’ _

The Master escaping (again) was terrible, of course. But as the Doctor steered the Tardis around toward Imblipungnap, he had the beginnings of a smile on his face. 


End file.
